summer break

New-ish moon. Sun slow (clock ahead of sun).

I did not plan on taking a summer break from writing love god. But as it turned out, I did not publish an essay in June. It was the second month I missed since starting this endeavor in February 2025. There can be wisdom in breaks.

"It is easy for me to imagine," wrote Wendell Berry, "that the next great division of the world will be between people who wish to live as creatures and people who wish to live as machines."

If I have to choose — and I think we will all have to choose — I will live as a creature and not a machine. If that means sometimes I miss a month, I accept.

Speaking of wisdom

One reason I didn't write a post last month was due to writing a new series for work: Common Wisdom.

I work with Soil & Soul, a nonprofit incubator based in Delray Beach, Florida. (Note: Soil & Soul is spiritual but not religious. They draw on the collective wealth of the world's wisdom traditions, but they are not affiliated with any one tradition. They have no official position on god, nor do they require one of their staff people.)

As I wrote in the first issue of Common Wisdom ...

The American civil rights movement has always inspired Soil & Soul, from our founding in 2007, right up to this day. In one way or another, we are forever trying to build upon that great movement for peace and freedom of 1954-1968.

The 250th anniversary of American independence this year is a chance to understand the links between two great freedom movements in this country — the civil rights revolution and the American revolution. If we can understand the science of these major movements for peace and freedom, we could help shape the next one waiting to be born.

So that's what Common Wisdom is about. I was working on it all June. It's free to subscribe, but you can also pay for a subscription to support Soil & Soul.

Weekend wisdom breaks in May, June, & July ...

I often write love god essays on the weekends, but not this summer. Last weekend (July 11), I went to a local beach with family, finally getting out on the canoe this year. It was glorious. I did a 90-minute loop along the intracoastal waterway, from the Boynton Beach inlet, south to the bridge on Ocean Avenue, and back to the inlet.

The prior weekend was July 4 holiday weekend. I am not a fan of fireworks, but I do appreciate the document adopted that day 250 years ago, despite the contradictions between its ideals and the systems of its time. This year, the Delray Beach History Society invited me to read a portion of the Declaration of Independence, together with 9 others, at the city's Fourth of July celebration.

I said yes because a friend asked me to do it. But I also said yes because of Fannie Lou Hamer.

Born in Mississippi in 1917, Fannie Lou Hamer was a woman who had every reason to hate America. The first time she learned that she could vote in elections was in 1962; she was 44. In theory, that was true. In practice, it was false.

The day she dared attempt to register to vote, Ms. Hamer lost her home. When she attended a training to learn how to build a movement that could vote, she was thrown into the Winona Jail and nearly beaten to death. ...

On July 4, 1964, Ms. Hamer hosted a picnic for black and white volunteers who’d dedicated their summer to nonviolently facing down fascism on American soil. They celebrated the promise that all are created equal even as they faced death for living as if it were true.

That's an excerpt from "July 4th in the Face of Fascism," a 2025 post at Our Moral Moment w/ Bishop William Barber & Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, an independent publication by two professional theologians.

Fannie Lou Hamer did not let the practice of America stop her from celebrating the theory of America. She made both the practice and the theory better in her lifetime. She put a wisdom perspective — seeing oneness — into action. We should do likewise.

Retreat culture for the people in Palm Beach County

The last weekend of June, I participated in a local fatherhood retreat. I led a stillness exercise as part of the morning session, helping to create mental and emotional freedom to be open to experience all the retreat had to offer.

The fatherhood retreat was excellent. Over 60 fathers were present, childcare was available on site, and skilled presenters and panelists brought their best stuff. I heard there was a waiting list with more dads who could not be served due to space limitations. I recommended doing these retreats more often to serve more fathers.

And finally, in May, I led a stillness exercise for Art of Expression, a retreat-style wellness experience for local leaders who serve others more than they serve self.

This was also excellent, mixing skilled facilitators and leaders with a twist. A tour of the place introduced participants to a variety of artists and arts professionals, people we would not have otherwise met, and a place — an arts collective — we might not have explored on our own.

These are not your typical wellness retreats. They are better. They are not consumer-oriented, not market-dependent, and not brands. They are of the people, by the people, and for the people. They are free, they are collaborative, and they are for the common good. They are a true break. An oasis. A place where wisdom can arise.

"Wisdom comes from stillness. Without stillness there is no wisdom." ~ the Buddha